nolandspam | TEST DRIVE MEME 2

Entry tags:

TEST DRIVE MEME 2

NOTES:

IF BOTH CHARACTERS APP IN AND AGREE, THREADS USING PROMPT 1 CAN BE COUNTED AS GAME CANON.
PLEASE READ THE FAQ TO DECIDE YOUR ORGANIC FORM BEFORE POSTING!

PROMPT 1: ARRIVAL

You awake laying on your back in an, admittedly comfortable, pod. You can't move anything but your eyes, can't even feel your body yet. How you got here or why is a blank. You may have been in the middle of your day, asleep, or even- for what you remember- should be dead. Then a screen directly in front of your face flickers to life and in crisp, black and white displays: DON'T PANIC. The following video then plays:

Watch on YouTube

The screen flickers again and reads: CONGRATULATIONS ON PLANNING FOR THE FUTURE! WELCOME TO VAULT LIFE, CITIZEN. WELCOME TO YEAR: [ERROR]. YOUR PERSONAL BELONGINGS ARE LOCATED IN [FILE CORRUPTED. SEE SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR]. ENJOY YOUR STAY AND THANK YOU FROM YOUR FRIENDS AT VAULT-TEC.

The pod then unseals and you are able to, unstably at first, climb out of the pod. Your body may feel foreign for a moment- perhaps entirely foreign if you suddenly find yourself a human, ghoul, or super mutant for the first time. But whatever your form, you have two items on: a bright blue jumpsuit with the number 66 in yellow on the back, and a mechanical device known as a Pip-boy sealed onto your arm. If you click on the buttons it takes you to an instruction screen.

You look around to find yourself in a room of other pods. Some are just opening, other people looking as confused as you climbing out. Others remain closed with the status of 'STASIS' on the screens attached to the pods. The rest of the room is less than impressive. Computer systems that seem out of place compared to the technology level of the pods are scattered across the room, apparently running the chambers. Trying to access them, even for the most talented hacker, will simply result in SEE OVERSEER being displayed. There is large metal door leading to the rest of the vault, a lever on the wall next to it that will cause it to open.

Welcome, dweller, to vault 66.

PROMPT 2: SETTLING IN

The living quarters of the vault leave something to be desired. While the current occupants of the vault have made some improvements, it's hard to ignore piles of skeletons in corners and the mildew on the beds. It's clear that whatever happened to the last occupants of the vault, whoever they were, it wasn't exactly a peaceful end. The medical wing has some of the worst blood splatter...but that at least you can pretend was from needed medical interventions. Right?

At the moment, the entire vault is run only on emergency generators, creating dull, flickering light throughout the underground base. None of the computers are working yet. Despite this, there's some hope. There's clean, if very mineral tasting, water in the sinks, toilets, and showers. There's a pool table if someone can relax enough for a game and doesn't mind the fact it looks like a pool cue shoved in the eye socket may have caused the death of a couple of the skeletons laying around. Further, the kitchen is stocked with some food! It's all pre-apocalypse, hyper preserved canned goods and sugary cereals that somehow haven't gone bad yet, but it's something.

A small reminder that characters are not the only living things in the vault. In the shadows created by the flickering lights or outside of the range of the light of your pip-boy, there is skittering. The noise isn't noticeable when there are groups of people, but get down to three or two and it's impossible to ignore. If you don't run away, you'll eventually come across groups of foot long radroaches, gigantic cockroaches that are ready for some fresh food for once. And it looks like you're on the menu. Hopefully you've got one of those pool cues or found a wrench or some other weapon, because it's gonna take more than a stomp to take these guys out.

PROMPT 3: CLEANING DAY

Welcome vault dwellers to the dreaded cleaning day. Yes, many characters have been tidying up here and there for, let’s face it, lack of much else to do in their new home. But the resident kitchen Mr. Handy robot has finally snapped, threatening the other Mr. Handy, Nick, with deactivation and some creative repurposing of his parts if something isn’t done about the horrible state of the vault. Too bad Nick would rather feed himself to the roaches than do that much work- meaning he’s conscripted you, the newly awoken and (semi-)veteran vault dwellers alike, to help.

Whether you like it or not.

Nick has helpfully put you into pairs, lured you into rooms throughout the vault, and then locked you in together with enough cleaning supplies to get the job done. Just pile the junk in one corner, he says, and he’ll unlock the door once it looks presentable. How does he know how it looks inside the room through solid metal doors? He’s not telling. Just another piece of info you can try to squeeze out of him once you’ve escaped and, possibly, enact your revenge. But for now, better get cleaning. Or for those of you with some lock-picking or hacking skills, figuring out this weird technology to get the door to open back up again without Nick’s help.

PIP-BOY CHATTER

Post text or audio messages to the pip-boy network to get to know your fellow dwellers!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Unaware of her thoughts and inner struggle, he's smirking at the panic.

"Not entirely sure," he shrugs. "The video makes me think United States in the 1950s or 60s, but everyone's... from other places. Information hasn't been easy to gather."

Nor have they found a way out of the vault. It's very irritating.

"Where'd you come from?"

1950s or 1960s. She'd thought something similar when she saw the video. Did Five have something to do with this? He was the only time traveler she knew.

"United States. April 1st, 2019." The day of her concert. At least, that's when she thought she came from. Honestly, the last day or two have been a blur and she's pretty sure she brutally murdered at least two people, and wow, that's something to mentally unpack later.

His smirk makes something burn in her gut. It's a feeling she's not used to, not that she's used to much feeling at all. It flares up suddenly, making her jaw clench, and maybe she would have done something rash if she could hear her heartbeat, but she couldn't. It was almost like she was ordinary again. Maybe she always was and the last few days had just been a fever dream brought on by stopping her medication.

She bites into the sandwich again before taking another shaky breath. Hold it together. "What about you?"

"Japan, 2017," it still feels weird to state conflicting years so casually. Vanya is the closest to him so far on the timeline that he's aware of, and for some reason that makes her seem more real. "There's a kid here from 2050, and a woman from 1910. Nothing makes any fucking sense."

Vanya nods, obviously taking the news of time travel easier than the sight of giant roaches. Okay, okay, this is more in the realm of weird she's used to. She can deal with this.

"And no one remembers going to a bunker before a nuclear strike, I'm guessing." It wouldn't make sense for a kid from Japan two years ago to be hanging around America and buying space in a bunker. "Has anyone found a way out?"

"Nope."

That answers both of her questions. He holds up his arm, displaying the PipBoy.

"These things have maps, but there's no exits marked. And looking at the skeletons, people have been living in here for years. Maybe they were the group before us and never found a way out either."

No exits. They were underground, and no one had found any exits in over a week. Not even a window.

Vanya's breathing comes in too tight. She braces herself on the counter, her knuckles turning white and creaking with the force of her grip. She needs to breathe. She needs to breathe.

It's not soundproofed down here. She isn't alone. This isn't like the cell they locked her in.

"We... we can't be trapped," she said, her voice shaking. No, no, she can't be. She'd be okay with her sister shooting her in the head, but not with being buried alive. "There has to be a way out. Has... has anyone actually explored? Instead of just relying on the maps?"

Fuck. She's freaking out and he doesn't know what to do.

"Calm down!"

That probably doesn't help, and neither will his answer.

"We've been all over this fucking place and there's no way out. Yet. Someone will find one because there has to be one. The dead people came from somewhere, the roaches got in from the outside or they wouldn't be fucking giant," and speaking of that. "We don't even know what's out there and it could be an irradiated wasteland!"

Calm down. That phrase sparks rage in her gut that flares through her blood. Calm down? How dare he tell her to calm down? Her face twists into something ugly, and for a moment she wants to listen to the beat of his heart and tear it straight out of his chest. She would have done it too, if her power were there. She can imagine his chest bursting open as his body crumples to the floor.

And then a moment later, he's still there, still talking, and she remembers how utterly unhinged it is to want to kill someone for saying the wrong thing. What the hell is wrong with her? She's overwhelmed with gratitude that her powers don't seem to be working, that she didn't do something horrible, and it does not mix well with the panic.

"I can't breathe. I can't breathe." She covers her face, unable to look at him, knowing what she would have done had she been able to. "Please talk about anything else. Japan. Yourself. Something. Just talk, please."

She needs to know that she's not in the cell. She needs to hear. She needs to hear and she needs to get a hold of herself because she's a fucking mess.

Heart removal is how he died the first time, and maybe one day she'll hear about it... Jiro is so far out of his depth here. He can deal with injured animals, and demons decapitating people, but emotional breakdowns are something foreign, despite his tendency towards screaming at people in reactionary rage.

"I don't know what to say!" his mind is blank. Help. "Okay! Um, let me tell you about Nachi! She was a great dog, kind of like a mom to me, and she used to let me give her a bath when I got home from school. I got beat up a lot and she'd say that it was to wash away the bad feelings with the dirt..."

What the fuck is he doing? He doesn't have many good stories, and somehow telling her about demons and possession and dying twice seems like a bad idea.

Vanya is gasping for air, gulping it in like she’s drowning. To the uninitiated, it may look like an asthma attack.

“Dogs. That’s good. I like dogs. Nachi took care of you? What did she look like?”

It’s not the weirdest thing she’s heard. She was partially raised by a robot and talking ape. Talking dogs aren’t weird.

She tries to focus on what she’s hearing. Dog. Kind dog. She imagines the man before her kneeling in a kiddie pool and rinsing a big Labrador with a happy bark, like the sorts that show up in feel-good commercials.

It doesn't appear to Jiro that he's helping any, but he'll continue to ramble about his dog if necessary. He looks through the cabinets for a glass to fill with water.

"She was a kishu, big and white. I didn't have parents, so it was just her and Gramps. I talked to her more than anyone else as a kid... She had kind eyes."

He just kind of shoves the glass of water at Vanya, some of the liquid spilling over the top.

She grasps the water, nodding her thanks before drinking like a dying woman. Water, air, sound, dogs. Her heart is beginning to slow down.

“She sounds nice.” Vanya’s mind goes to her own parental figure who happened to be an animal. Pogo. He betrayed her and she killed him.

She takes another drink of water. Breathe, breathe, breathe. “No siblings?”

He eyes her warily; hopefully, she's calming down a little.

"No, just me. You gonna be okay?"

“Lucky.” The word is out, bitter in her mouth, before she means it. She waits for a wave of guilt to hit like it always does after she badmouths her siblings even a little, but it doesn’t come. She means it, and she’s not sorry, even if she should be.

She puts it out of her mind, taking another drink of water and forcing that to moderate her breathing for her. Dogs. Dogs with kind eyes. Little boys giving dogs baths.

“Yes, thank you.” Her voice is regaining steadiness. “It was... sorry, I have panic attacks. I usually have medication for them, but not now.”

"Good luck with that," he scoffs. It's not so much dismissing her, but that it's a potential problem for her down here. "There's a medical room. I dunno what the fuck kinda shit you'll find there, and it's all old and gross."

Now everything's just awkward after the moment of panic is has passed.

"Does it happen a lot?"

“I... I don’t actually know?” Ugh, how can she even begin to explain? “I’ve been on this medication since I was four. I only stopped using it a few days ago. I think it’s just... getting out of my system.”

At least she hopes that’s all it’s doing. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if it turns out the anxiety really is crippling. Is there a therapist down here?

“I’ll be okay. I appreciate you talking me through it.”

Panic attacks at four? That's disturbing, but it's none of his business.

"Yeah, well... you're welcome. I'm Jiro, by the way. What's your name?"

He might as well continue conversation, even though he doesn't like to, because what if she starts freaking out again?

You don't know the half of it, Jiro.

"Jiro. It's... nice to meet you?" She laughs nervously because she does not know how to deal with people and, wow, this is probably the weirdest way she's ever met someone. She should probably be embarrassed, but she can't bring herself to be with all the other weirdness weighed on. "I'm Vanya." (Or Number Seven, if one is being formal, but she generally keeps the name on her birth certificate to herself.)

"I'm, uh..." She's about to apologize, but she stops herself. No. Her request doesn't require an apology, does it? She's asking politely. He can say no if he wants to. "Could you... could you please show me around? I have no idea what's going on and I could use someone who knows the place."

He wants to just tell her to read the fucking map, and last week he would have, but he's gotten used to talking to people a little better. Some of them.

"Not much to see. It's all like this," he waves vaguely around the kitchen. Old stuff, dirty, rusting, occasional skeletons. "Did you find the dorm yet?"

Might as well start there.

"No. Only this and the pod room." She puts away the containers she took out for her sandwich before she takes another bite of it, grimacing at the taste.

"Do you want any?" she says, holding it out to him. She's trying to be friendlier with people. "It's... it's terrible."

"It looks terrible," that's a no. "Come on."

At the doorway, he checks to make sure the roach is gone, and collects the pool cue. It's s short walk to the a section with a 'Female Dorm' sign on the wall. Inside, there's bunks and a little less dust and grime than the hallways; some people having prioritized cleaning, though the mattress are mildewy.

On one bunk near the entrance, there's a pile of pool cues and other assorted makeshift weapons, along with various ties and shoelaces and things that might be useful. It's fairly organized for what it is. That's what Jiro points to, because there's nothing else of interest in the dorm.

"Take what you want from there."

God, this really is a awful place. She looks at the skeletons with grim detachment. She's seen dead bodies before, and it's easier when they're just skeletons. How long ago did they all die, that they've fully decomposed, the smell of rot has receded into mildew, and the food is still edible?

She grimaces at the sight of all the weapons. Not for the first time, she wishes that Dad had let her learn self-defense with her siblings. She picks up a pool cue, weighing it in her hands before deciding it's better than nothing.

"Is there anything besides the bugs to worry about? Like... cat-sized rats or something?"

"Nothing alive," as far as he knows. "There's a few robots around. The French one's a dick and has a flamethrower."

The robots creep him out far more than the cockroaches. Apparently, there's one with a saw hanging around the medical room, but Jiro hasn't come across her yet.

"Does the French one use the flamethrower?"

She's significantly more relaxed around robots than people, honestly. Her mother, the only consistent source of positive attention when she was a child, was a robot. It hurts to know that she is dead and Vanya never got to say goodbye.

"Yeah, I think it's... attached to his arm? Or is his arm?"

He doesn't think they're malicious, but they're still dangerous.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject